


Saving Ciri

by Kaerith



Series: Witcher Prompt One-Shots [5]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon Ships It, Gang Rape, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Sick Ciri, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:47:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24147619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaerith/pseuds/Kaerith
Summary: When bandits kidnap Jaskier and Ciri, Jaskier sacrifices his well-being to prevent Ciri from being assaulted. After they escape, Geralt blames Jaskier for not protecting her and punches Jaskier before he hears the entire story. Geralt has a lot to make up for.(Rape and violence with MCs, G/J pre-slash)
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion/Original Male Character(s)
Series: Witcher Prompt One-Shots [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1791685
Comments: 9
Kudos: 431
Collections: Interesting Character and/or Interesting Relationship Development, Witcher Kink Meme (Dreamwidth)





	Saving Ciri

**Author's Note:**

> Based on two kink meme prompts: https://witcherkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/429.html?thread=445357 and https://witcherkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/429.html?thread=445613#cmt445613
> 
> I set this during _Blood and Wine_ , so it's a mix of the game and Netflix with a lot of skewed lore/messed up timelines.
> 
> This fic got longer than I intended, and I got impatient to complete the "comfort", so I apologize for for the rather abrupt ending.

Toussaint was a land full of beautiful vistas and beautiful people, but even Jaskier would admit Toussaintois were too obsessed about wine. Geralt, Jaskier, and Ciri were guests of the armor smith Count Bartolomé de Launay and his wife Melinda at their estate Villa Vedette. Geralt had refused to tell his companions much about what made the Duchess summon him, or what de Launey needed his help about, but Jaskier had surmised that there was something about a rogue witcher and was dying to learn more details. 

On their first morning at the estate Jaskier and Ciri met the Countess for breakfast and learned that Geralt and Barolomé had left during the night. Melinda said that her husband was being blackmailed by a witcher who had allied with a local group of bandits, a hanse led by a man called Antoine Straggen. 

She was a gracious hostess who drank wine like it was water even at this early hour. Ciri was interested in trying all of the rich, exotic foods that covered the table in the dining room, but Jaskier had a bit more experience and stuck with the plainer breads and meats. 

Since Jaskier was a very kind man who would never make fun of a young lady, he didn't tease Ciri at all a couple hours later when she was running back and forth to the privy and complaining of an upset tummy. After it seemed the worst had passed, he left her curled up in her bed and went to sit on the courtyard and enjoy the sunlight as he plucked at his lute. 

There were a handful of servants around doing laundry, two of the armorer's apprentices smelting ore, and two young children toddling after the hens, and it was one of the rare bucolic days Jaskier enjoyed as his life was usually spent traveling after a monster-hunter. 

The peace was interrupted by a man running into the yard and yelling about bandits approaching. The smiths locked the gates to the courtyard while Jaskier ushered the children into the house. 

The gates didn't hold the bandits for long and the peasants were slaughtered. Jaskier saved him and Ciri and Melinda by promising them that they were worth valuable ransoms, but the three survivors cried and retched at the cruelly butchered bodies they passed as they were chained together and led from the estate. 

It was a short walk to the hanse's base in some ruins in a swamp, but the Countess was an older woman and rather frail and Ciri had more than one attack of diarrhea while they were walking. The poor girl was in pain and mortified, but Jaskier was secretly glad because he knew the crude men had been eying Ciri with dangerous leers that she had been too miserable to notice. Shitting herself may have saved her. But Jaskier couldn't communicate that to her during their march. 

They were put in individual cages. Jaskier blustered and balked and tried to convince them to put him in with Ciri, but was hit on the head and pushed inside a cage. His head rung and his scalp bled profusely, but he thankfully wasn't incapacitated. 

The hanse leader came to see them, and Jaskier snorted when he heard the man called "Starling." 

"What a scary bandit name," he said mockingly. His plan was to keep the bandits focused on him so that the women would hopefully be forgotten. That comment earned him a black eye from Starling Straggen himself. 

Runners were dispatched to deliver a ransom letter to the Duchess. Given that they were in a vassal state of Nilfgaard, Jaskier was relieved that "young girl Fiona" was only attached the name of "Julian Pankratz de Lettenhove, Bard" instead of Geralt of Rivia. The war was officially over and the Princess of Cintra believed to be dead, but Jaskier was sure that there were Nilfgaardians still on the lookout for clues. 

Jaskier grew more nervous as night fell and the bandits got roaring drunk. He kept an eye on his fellow prisoners: the Countess was collapsed against the ground and bars with her face wan except for around her eyes where she had obviously been crying, and Ciri remained glowering and mulish as if she was channeling Geralt and daring the bandits to open the door and give her an opportunity to rip them apart. She had been under his, the other wolves', and Yennefer's tutelage the past four years and had a natural aptitude for swordsmanship, but even Geralt would have a difficult time killing the forty bandits or so that occupied the hanse stronghold. But Jaskier was proud of her composure even while she winced with stomach cramps and sat in her filthy skirts. 

The time came when the bandits' discussion led to sex and their captives. Melinda was deemed "too old," but there was interest in the girl despite her condition. 

Jaskier made a comment loud enough to get their attention but vague and mumbled enough that a handful of soused men surrounded his cage and started to taunt him. 

"What was that, _tapette?_ " One bandit said, his beery breath blasting into Jaskier's face. 

"I thought you were Toussaintois," Jaskier replied, instead, dramatically waving his hand in front of his nose. "Why do you smell like a Temerian sheepfuckers?" 

For bandits, Jaskier mused as he was dragged from the cage, they had an unexpected amount of patriotism. They draped him over a fallen column and ripped off his clothes while one of the burliest men retrieved a whip. He was lashed nearly twenty times while the crowd cheered and cursed. 

He was not ashamed that he cried, but he also managed to struggle and curse and generally keep the crowd's focus on him. He didn't know what Ciri was up to, but she was doing something and she could have learned a myriad of things from any of her instructors that might help them escape. 

When the bandits' mood shifted from bloodthirsty to something more lascivious, Jaskier baited the crowd further. "Oh, is it time for the sheep to return?" 

"I'll cut out your tongue!" 

Jaskier waggled it. "It has such a beloved reputation among the women across the Northern Realms!" 

A man in a red shirt spit. "I would much rather have the blond." 

"Ohh," Jaskier said loudly, projecting his arch tone so the entire crowd could hear him. "Are you the type who is so bad at sex that they only rape virgins?" The man's face got as red as his tunic, and he slapped him across the face, but Jaskier turned back to continue the taunt. "Or is your prick so small that it's useless at pleasuring a well-used cunt?" 

There were more laughs and jeers than anger at Jaskier's sass that time. He thinks he may be winning the hanse over. Give him a week, and he could be in charge of these uncultured animals! 

Someone he can't see grabbed Jaskier's bottom with rough hands. "I prefer an arse," the man behind him said. "He's got a rather nice one. Better than the hag or child." 

This was definitely what Jaskier wanted, and he silently thanked the ass-bandit and flexed his bum, trying to be decide if he wanted to play the frightened virgin or the experienced cosmopolitan. He figured that these men were likely to want their victims to be fearful and humiliated. 

"No! You can't! I'll... I'll use my mouth!" He cried and tried to squirm out of the grasp of the men holding him, but was grimly pleased when his theatrics seemed to convince the horde to keep their attentions on him. 

"We'll put that to good use, too," a bandit with several missing teeth leered at him. He held a knife to Jaskier's head with one hand while he pulled his pants down with the other. "Bite me and I'll cut your ear off." Just as he stuck his dirty dick into Jaskier's mouth Jaskier screamed because fingers started to dryly probe into his anus. The men roared and Jaskier's world narrowed down to pleasing the disgusting men to keep them from Ciri. 

* * *

He was pulled from unconsciousness much later, though it was still dark. The entire camp was quiet as the men sprawled sleeping or in drunken stupors. A small hand was clamped over his mouth as his shoulder was shaken and he opened his eyes to see Ciri. His wits returned quickly, and he could see that all three cages were empty. Ciri pulled her hand away and made gestures telling Jaskier to be silent and follow her. 

He got up, biting his lip as his body protested the aggravation of the wounds on his back and his ass, but he managed to pull his trousers up and stumble carefully around the column to follow her into the marsh. Ciri had tied her skirts up and delicately placed her feet so that her movements were nearly noiseless, and Jaskier did his best to copy her steps. The Countess was waiting for them behind a tree and gave Jaskier a weak, relieved smile. She handed Ciri a short sword and the adults let the girl lead them through the wilderness. She led them promptly to a road but had them walk in the shelter of the trees until they reached a crossroads sign. She darted out to read it then chose a direction and they followed, hiding when she signalled to them if she heard hooves (she seemed to hear them what seemed like minutes before Jaskier could finally pick them out). They stumbled into a village around dawn and were reassured by the sounds and sights of normal peasants having a normal day without the threat of bandits or other unscrupulous folk hanging over them in a threat. 

Melinda approached first, her native accent and fine clothing reassuring, and her disheveled and frightened mien inducing sympathy. She waved them over, and "Fiona" and Julien were introduced as her guests that had also been abducted by the hanse. 

They were ushered into the small tavern and women tended to them, cleaning their skin and bandaging Jaskier's lashed back. He didn't mention the rapes because there was no need to shock the young village girls who were watching with round eyes. 

Finally they were dressed in borrowed clothes and given food. Jaskier hugged Ciri to his side and kissed her on her head. "Smart little sparrow! I had no doubt that if I could distract them you could do something to get us away" 

"Did you really?" She asked, cuddling closer and sniffling as she teared up. 

"Every second," Jaskier promised. "Now, tell me what you did." 

She explained how Lambert had taught her how to pick locks and the the ones on her and Melinda's cages were surprisingly easy. She had stolen the sword from a sleeping man and had led Melinda away first because she had been afraid that Jaskier may have woken others up when he was roused. She apologized for leaving him even though she planned to immediately come back, and he shushed her. "If it was too dangerous for you to come back for me the right thing was to get you and the Countess away so you could get help. What a marvelous person you are!" 

None of the villagers had space to spare, so the three escaped captives made themselves as comfortable as they could so they could doze right there in the tavern. The lady publican promised that she would serve everyone else outside to give them quiet, and a man with biceps to rival Geralt's helped her carry several casks of drinks outside. 

Jaskier perched himself in a corner where he could sit on the stool and wedge his shoulders against the wall and hopefully manage to stay upright when he fell asleep without adding pressure to his destroyed back. Ciri and Melinda fell asleep in their chairs quickly, exhausted from the fear and walking and without pain to keep them awake. 

The willowbark tea and the salve that had been gently applied to Jaskier's wounds had helped a bit, but there was too much agony for Jaskier to ignore. He couldn't fall asleep, but kept his eyes closed and thought of songs and stories to keep his mind busy and not dwell on the previous night. 

They were all three woken up as Geralt stomped inside and swept Ciri up into a hug. The Count was close behind him, and greeted his wife with just as much relief. 

Geralt's open concern and relief made Jaskier smile as he listened to everything Ciri said and complimented her on her bravery and quick thinking. Geralt finally turned his head and noticed Jaskier in the corner and looked a little softer when he saw him, which made Jaskier blush and his heart pound. When Ciri said, "I couldn't have done it without Jaskier's help! If he didn't-" Geralt gently pushed her away and approached Jaskier but his face changed and Ciri trailed off in confusion. 

Jaskier tried to scramble up to his feet but the stiffness and pain made movement slow. Geralt punched him before he was standing and Jaskier fell backwards into the corner knocking over the stool as the cut on his scalp reopened and began to bleed. The agony made his body forget how to breathe for several long seconds and his head was spinning and confused as he watched Ciri cling to Geralt's arm and say something he couldn't hear through the pain and pressure in his head. He managed to regain his senses midway through Geralt's diatribe. 

"...sitting there with a smirk and a black eye when you couldn't prevent Ciri from being kidnapped by a gang of thugs. Do you know what they would've done to her if she hadn't saved your lazy, selfish ass?" 

The two women tried to calm him down, but Jaskier just lay there limply, confused. Finally Ciri got into Geralt's face and seemed to yell some sense into his head, but Jaskier didn't really care because he _finally_ felt the unconsciousness that he had wished for looming right there, and... 

* * *

Geralt had been petrified when he heard that bandits had raided Villa Vedette. He and Bartolomé rode back as quickly as they could just to see the slaughtered bodies all laid out in the courtyard, beginning to putrefy in the afternoon sun. The Countess and Ciri and Jaskier were thankfully not among the dead, and Geralt could see and smell their tracks mixed among those of the bandits'. 

Bartolomé had advised Geralt not to go after them, saying that it was most likely the hanse that comprised at least 50 men who had taken them, and that there would likely be a ransom demand. Geralt had followed him to Beauclair and they had met with the Duchess who had indeed received a demand. A large contingent of soldiers had been sent north, but Geralt didn't have faith that they would be able to get there in time to prevent Ciri from being hurt, killed, or identified as Cintra's missing princess. 

Bartolomé stuck by his side as he rode up to where the suspected hanse's stronghold was, trying to talk Geralt out of taking on the entire encampment by himself. The Count's horse threw a shoe and the witcher was forced to slow down because he was torn between wanting to mount a risky rescue as soon as he could and protecting the landed armorer. 

Worry and fear gnawed at his gut as they moved too slowly northward. All he could picture was Ciri hurt, mutilated, tortured, and dead. He was concerned about Jaskier too, but her age and gender just made her so much more vulnerable. 

As a village came into view in the late morning Geralt could hear the chatter of many peasants. Once they got closer he saw that they were crowded outside of the tavern. The talk of the town was the trio who had escaped from Starling Straggen. Geralt trotted Roach to the building and dismounted and burst through the tavern door with hope.... 

She was there! His entrance had startled Ciri from sleep and they crashed together in an embrace emotional enough to rival their first time finding each other. She was in unfamiliar clothes, but she seemed whole and in amazingly good spirits and was so excited to tell him how she had saved them that her words ran over each other as she raced to get the story out. 

At one point Ciri motioned to Jaskier and he could see the bard in the corner, slouching lazily with a strange smile on his face and nothing worse than a black eye. Geralt approached the corner to read him the riot act but Jaskier seemed to blink sleepily during his lecture and kept that gods-damned bemused smile on his face the entire time that Geralt had to give him a whack to make sure he was getting through to the idiot. 

Ciri screamed and grabbed at his arm and Geralt watched as the bard- his _friend_ \- began to bleed and went limp and unconscious in an uncomfortable looking sprawl in the corner. 

"You stupid sheepfucker!" Ciri screamed at him, putting her small body between the two men and hitting Geralt in a frenzy of tears. He wanted to chide her on her language (something she probably picked up from Lambert) but she collapsed in a heap of body-wracking sobs. The Countess crouched over her and held her shoulders with kind hands but glared at Geralt with such venom that he stepped back. 

"Bully!" She said. Her husband tried to shush her, but Melinda had an anger that Geralt had never guessed at as they ate at he table two nights previous. Her hands moved from Ciri's shoulders to cover her ears and she looked between Geralt and Jaskier before she hissed, "The bard made himself a target for their anger and was whipped. He kept their attention away from us while your girl managed to unlock her cage. He was _raped by at least a score of men_ because he was clever enough to focus the bastards' violence upon himself instead of the girl. I don't care if her name is Fiona or Ciri or whatever, but both of us owe our lives to that man who hasn't complained a lick about the pain he must be in since we escaped! The one you assaulted because you were too narrow-minded and rash to give a moment to listen to!" 

Geralt felt his face grow white. He looked at Jaskier's limp form and was afraid to approach it. The bard was bleeding severely and he could smell it, thick and bitter on the back of his tongue, now that he had the presence of mind to notice. 

Bartolomé left his wife with Ciri and knelt by Jaskier to gently examine him. There was a bleeding wound on his head which was superficial, and his nose was bleeding, too.The Count gently reached underneath his back and his hands came away bloody. There was an expression of grave concern on the older man's face. 

"Help me move him to the table, please," the man asked and Geralt numbly complied, taking Jaskier's legs as the smith lifted his torso. They put Jaskier on his side on the table and Geralt could see the lash marks bleeding through his shirt and bandages. 

A woman had joined them at some point when they had been too busy to notice, and she came over with crossed arms and an expression of anger. "There will be none of this idiocy in my tavern!" She said loudly. Geralt thought that meant that she wanted Jaskier off the table, but she slapped the witcher's arm as he grabbed the bard's legs. "Leave him there! You will only cause more harm to him! You should know that this man saved the women!" 

"I know," Geralt muttered quietly, ashamed of himself. 

"This is how you treat heroes in the north? With yelling and violence?" She swatted at his hands again. "Do not touch him, you swine!" She moved briskly past them and behind the counter to scoop out a basinful of water from a pot simmering by the fire and pumped fresh water to reduce the temperature. "I do not have any more scraps to use as bandages, so we will have to use the ones we used earlier." 

Geralt was relegated to a chair well away from the table. Ciri sat next to the unconscious bard and clutched at his hand, while the Count and Countess assisted the publican with removing thebandages, washing them, and retreating the wounds. Geralt couldn't see his friend's back, but judging from how long they took the injuries must be extensive. 

The witcher was unwanted and useless. He wallowed in his guilt and shame for awhile, then remembered there was a way he could help. He had the xenovox in his pocket, and he pulled it out and contacted Yennefer. Her tone was sharp and impatient until Geralt told her what happened. "I'll be there soon to retrieve the girl and the bard. I assume you have work to finish." She ended the conversation abruptly, and Geralt chided himself for the stab of self-pity that he felt at Yennefer being angry at him, too. He didn't deserve it, just like Jaskier hadn't deserved Geralt raging at him without knowing the whole situation. 

"Ciri," he said quietly. He had seemed to have accidentally revealed her name earlier, so there was no reason to call her Fiona. She raised her head and he saw her tear-stained face. She wasn't angry anymore, just looked and smelled deeply sad. "Yennefer is going to open a portal for you and Jaskier to go recover with her." Ciri nodded, and turned back to Jaskier. Melinda handed her a damp cloth and Ciri began to gently remove the blood from the bard's face. 

Geralt couldn't imagine the bard having the guts to decide to undergo torture to try to spare someone else. Well, he could easily imagine Jaskier running his mouth as a distraction, but it seemed like he had knowingly set himself up for grievous abuse from a large number of volatile men so that Ciri could attempt to escape. Geralt found it unfathomable that Jaskier had managed to succeed in withstanding a harsh whipping and then goading the men into hurting him more. The man complained about every little annoyance all the other days Geralt had known him! 

Yennifer came in through the door and Ciri ran to her. "Jaskier's hurt. They wanted to hurt me, but he took my place." 

"I'm going to make sure our knight makes a complete recovery. Would you mind introducing me to your companions?" 

Ciri politely and correctly introduced the Count and Countess and the tavernkeeper Romarin to Yennefer. After being introduced Yen showed some of those courtly graces she rarely had the patience for, and the Toussantois were gracious and stood aside so he could examine her patient. 

"His injuries are severe and painful but not life threatening," the sorceress proclaimed. 

"He can recover at our home," Bartolomé said. "We owe him for protecting Melinda and the girl." 

"What do you think?" Yen asked Ciri. "Would he be more comfortable here or up north?" 

Ciri bit her lip. "I would like to thank you all for your help. If it wouldn't be too much trouble, I think Jaskier would prefer to stay in Toussaint." She looked at Yen. "He was really excited about coming here, and we hardly had a night to enjoy ourselves." 

When the de Launay couple agreed, Yennefer nodded. She asked if she could open a portal to their home and they agreed. With a quick glimpse into someone's mind to determine where to go, she marched everyone out of the tavern. Geralt fell in at the end of the line but she shook her head at him. "My Lord," she said to Bartolomé, "The witcher will stay here and bring your horse to you once it has a new shoe." 

The Count looked a bit startled and glanced from her to Geralt. "Ah, if you would be so kind? I can leave you money if you need it." 

Geralt mentally growled at the sorceress but did not let his impatience and annoyance show on his face. "It is the least I can do since it was my haste that likely did the damage. It shouldn't take more than a few hours for me to join you at your home, with luck." 

Geralt watched the group go through the portal with the bard still unconscious and carried gently between Ciri and Melinda and her husband. 

* * *

When Geralt made it back to Villa Vedette it was after supper. Ciri was sitting next to Jaskier's bed and the bard was awake and doped up on a strong pain relieving potion. 

"Geralt!" Jaskier said brightly, though his voice slurred a bit. "You're back!" 

The witcher didn't need Ciri's glare to know what he had to do. "I'm sorry for hitting you. Thank you for protecting her." 

Jaskier nodded. "I did. Sometimes my mouth can get me into trouble for good causes. I called them all Temerian sheepfuckers!" He giggled. 

"That made them really mad," Ciri added, making the bard laugh harder. 

"There was that one guy who liked fucking my ass so much he came back twice more," Jaskier informed them between giggles. "I called him an ass-bandit! He was a literal ass-bandit!" His giggles morphed into guffaws and then into hyperventilating gasps as the memory turned sour or his mood changed and then he was crying. 

Geralt waved Ciri towards the door and then sat next to his friend on the bed and gathered him up into a careful embrace. Ciri made a warning face with a pointed finger at him for emphasis then left and closed the door. 

The witcher thought himself a bit better at comforting now that he had taken care of Ciri for a handful of years, and petted Jaskier's hair and kissed his forehead as he cried and murmured gentle nonsense. Jaskier seemed a lot more cogent when his tears stopped. 

"I'm going to kill them all," Geralt promised. 

Jaskier gave a quiet chuckle. "That might make you feel better. Yennefer promised the same thing." 

"What would make _you_ feel better?" 

The bard shrugged. "Time. And I suppose I will write a song about a heroine defending her younger sister in a similar situation." 

"Why would you change the facts so much?" Geralt asked, genuinely curious. 

"One, because a female protagonist will earn more sympathy. Many men would just be put off by the idea of sodomy and not like the song just for that. If I sing about a lovely virtuous maiden making the sacrifice those same men will be more like to cry into their ale. Two, because as proud as I am of saving the ladies, if I sing the song some listeners may think that I am singing about myself." 

"But you would be." 

"They don't need to know. There's magic that happens when one writes a song that puts their emotions onto an imaginary character. If I sang about my own ordeal I would keep remembering myself as the victim. If I sing about someone I made up enduring a similar situation then it isn't my experience anymore and I can view their actions as something tragic and brave without all the pain and guilt." 

"Don't feel guilt," Geralt said quietly but firmly. "What I said was worth less than shit. You did the best anyone could have done. I am ashamed of myself for hurting you. I truly am sorry." 

Jaskier yawned. "I forgive you. I understand that you love Ciri more than anything and she was your only concern." He fell asleep with his head on Geralt and his hands clutching the witcher's shirt. 

His words made Geralt feel only more guilty. Ciri _had_ been his only concern. He had hardly thought about Jaskier at all except to silently curse him for not being able to prevent her capture. Jaskier was his friend... what else could Geralt call his affection for him? 

Geralt vowed to change how he treated the bard. He would take care of Jaskier until his wounds were healed, and make sure that he knew that Geralt appreciated him for not only what he did, but for everything that Jaskier always did to make Geralt and Ciri's lives better. The coin he earned greatly improved the quality of their lives, and the ways he entertained them on their journeys, and how his mood seemed improve how strangers talked to Geralt. 

Geralt found some initial pushback from the de Launays and Ciri and even Yennefer before they accepted that Geralt was serious about helping Jaskier recover and was truly apologetic for what he had done. More and more of Jaskier's nursing was being done by the witcher, about which the bard seemed a bit bemused. 

"Don't you have that big contract?" Jaskier asked Geralt when the witcher was preparing a bath. 

"I have a friend working on it right now." 

"A friend?! Who?" 

Geralt shrugged. "Someone you know. I made him promise to visit when we're done with this contract. Unfortunately the mess we are trying to fix involves another close friend of his, so I haven't told him about your kidnapping." 

Jaskier was a bit miffed that the ordeal he suffered was considered a "distraction," and Geralt seemed to interpret his thoughts. 

"One of our friend's friends has appeared to have lost his mind and has committed two murders so far. He is rather upset about that, and since I am leaving him to try to find his friend and uncover why he acting this way I felt that it would be another emotional burden that would distract him. Let me help you up." 

Geralt assisted Jaskier to his feet and practically held him upright as they moved to the brass tub. Jaskier was nervous about removing his drawers because Geralt was likely to demand to see his more delicate injury. As far as he knew no one had examined him there, and all he knew was that he had bled since wiping the initial mess off at that tavern. 

He was too distracted by his fears and thoughts that Geralt lifting him off of his feet and into the water after he disrobed came as a surprise. The temperature was cooler than Jaskier usually liked, but Geralt had said that his wounds didn't need to be scalded. 

Geralt eyed his lash marks and said that there still weren't any signs of infection, then he asked to inspect Jaskier's anus. 

"No one needs to see that," Jaskier said. "Everything feels like it's healing." 

Geralt huffed and gave him a small smile. "That excuse never works on you. Tell me honestly that you wouldn't demand to see my ass if I had been injured." 

"It's not an injury," Jaskier insisted. "I am actually quite knowledgeable about the health and upkeep of a man's asshole. This isn't the first time I have had anal sex." 

"Jaskier, I can use the Axii sign if you are too embarrassed. You won't care at all then, and I will be able to examine it and determine what you need. Should I use it?" 

The bard sighed. "No. Fine, take a look." He put his hands on the chair back Geralt had pulled next to the tub and spread his feet a bit father apart. He blushed as he sensed Geralt kneel behind him and gently pull his cheeks apart. 

Jaskier trembled, but not entirely from weakness and back strain. He was embarrassed for Geralt to see that part of him, bloody and dirty and probably torn. He couldn't remember how many bandits had used him- between ten and twenty, maybe, and that wasn't including the men that used his mouth. The silence while Geralt examined him made his shame only increase, and he had to bite the side of his hand to keep himself from crying even though he couldn't wipe away his tears because of his grip on the chair keeping him from falling over. 

"It doesn't look too bad," was Geralt's final verdict. "If you keep eating simple foods you should be healed well before the end of summer." He stood up and caught a glimpse of Jaskier's face. "I'm sorry if I hurt you," he said, then was at a loss as to why his friend just shook his head. 

"Why are you crying?" Geralt stepped around to his front and carefully pulled him against his body, attentive for the least bit of resistance that would let him know if Jaskier didn't want the embrace. But Jaskier buried his face in Geralt's shoulder. 

"I'm sorry," Jaskier said. 

"No," Geralt said. "You don't need to be sorry about anything. I am the idiot who needs to apologize." 

"You already did, Geralt, it's fine," the bard said as he pulled away and wiped his face. "Help me sit down." 

Geralt dropped the issue for the moment and helped ease Jaskier into the tub. His friend still was wiping tears away. "Do you need more medicine?" 

"No. But would you mind giving me some time alone?" 

"Are you sure? It might be best if s-" 

"I'll be fine!" Jaskier flapped his hand at him like he was pushing Geralt toward the door. "Apparently I just need to cry right now, and I would prefer to be alone." 

Geralt nodded and left reluctantly. He met Yen and Ciri in another room. "He's crying," he told them. 

"And you left him alone?" Yennefer said. 

"Was I not supposed to?" 

"If he asked you to leave him alone, then it's fine," Ciri said. She was confused by the looks the adults were giving her. "What? I had to cry when I was alone when we got back here." 

"Why?" Geralt asked. The sorceress didn't look confused like Geralt, but she didn't look like she was going to explain the concept to him, so Ciri was left with trying to explain. There were rare times when she was reminded of how different Geralt and Yennefer were. She didn't know if it was mutations or magic or simply that they were weird adults, but Ciri sometimes felt more kinship with Jaskier than either of them. She was trying to learn how to manage her emotions like they seemed to, but it wasn't something that seemed natural to her personality. 

"Sometimes being hurt just builds up tension inside," she tried to explain. "Like, Geralt, when you go to three towns in a row where nobody gives you a kind word you tend to get cross and yell at Jaskier for doing anything that annoys you. Instead of getting cross, Jaskier and I cry." 

"That's what children do," Geralt said. He had come across many young children who cried when they got hurt or scared or were teased. 

It seemed to be the wrong thing to say to Ciri, though, because she looked upset. "Some of us cry instead of getting angry." 

"What do I do when he is done?" 

"Give him a hug and tell him that you love him. That's what you do when I am upset." 

"But I don't." 

Ciri looked at Yennefer who was hiding a smirk and rolling her eyes. She would share the same sense of exasperation at Geralt's seemingly willful lack of self-awareness, but the hints were accumulating that Geralt's upbringing had caused more damage to his emotional state than the mutations did to his physical one. 

"You do," she argued, and Geralt seemed to frown and think about it. When he went back in he did give Jaskier another hug but got an odd look from his friend. He didn't end up saying anything about love because Jaskier looked tired and a bit wary of him already. 

* * *

Jaskier told Ciri about the witcher's weird behavior. "He's almost been spoiling me. And the hugging-- I've hugged him maybe a handful of times but he stayed stiff as a board the whole time, but now he is initiating hugs, and it is so out of character for him!" 

"He feels bad about what he said and did when he saw you at the tavern." 

"I've accepted his apologies! I've told him that! It's like, all of a sudden, he..." Jaskier trailed off. "Never mind. It can't be that. I just don't know how else to explain it." 

"I think it's possible that he didn't realize that he loved you until you were hurt so badly and then he just made it worse, and now he is finally beginning to understand that he is in love with you and is trying to figure out how to treat you and how he wants you to treat him,” Ciri said. "Let him keep feeding you and washing you and hugging you and maybe he will finally get around to kissing you by Midwinter." 

"I am shocked," Jaskier said, honestly looking quite shocked. "You shouldn't know anything at all about romance. Why do you think you can try to lecture me about how Geralt feels? Do you have conversations about his emotions when I'm not around?" 

"Sometimes," she said. "But it's obvious. Your feelings for him are obvious to me and Yennefer, and his feelings for you are about five times as obvious since we were kidnapped." 

Jaskier huffed and turned away, but Ciri caught the edge of a small smile and a blush. "It seems like you may have an aptitude for making up love stories as well as wielding swords and magic." 

"Well, you three are kind of my parents now. Though I often feel like I am the one who must give the lectures on proper behavior." 

"Go stand in the corner, brat," Jaskier grumbled before he pulled her close and covered the crown of her head with kisses. 

* * *

After Geralt finished his contract regarding the Beast of Beauclair, he returned with Regis where they shared the whole tragic tale of Detlaff and Jaskier learned how his vampire friend had survived that last battle. They were all rather saddened, so Jaskier played a few personal favorite mood-lifting songs. 

Though it had been a week since his kidnapping and Jaskier was healing nicely, Geralt still insisted on seeing to Jaskier's wounds. When they were alone in Jaskier's bedroom he asked what Geralt was going to do next. 

"Regis, Yen, and I are going to kill Spraggen and his outlaws. Regis will leave Toussaint, and I have a number of contracts, likely enough to keep us here through autumn." 

"Will we stay in the city?" Jaskier asked excitedly. 

"I was hoping to get your assistance with something," Geralt said, awkwardly. "I have come into possession of an estate." 

As usual, Jaskier had to drag the details from his friend and was the only one of the two of them excited about Geralt's acquisition of a vineyard and manor house. 

"As soon as you can sit a horse we can go. That will give the major-domo enough time to refurbish the place to be comfortable for you and Ciri." 

"And you, Geralt. It's your house." Jaskier could tell by the way his friend looked away from him that the idea was completely foreign to the witcher. He didn't know whether it was just Geralt or all witchers, but Geralt had a tendency to scorn any opinions Jaskier gave about how Geralt deserved more in life than hardship and hostility. It made the bard sad and even angry; angry at the world for being the prejudiced place that it was, and angry at the way Geralt was raised-- because although Geralt rarely said anything, there were too many hints that his upbringing had been horrible and with few comforts. 

But sympathy wasn't something Geralt liked to hear, so Jaskier had to put his poet's brain to use to make a metaphor that the witcher's pride would accept. 

He dared to take Geralt's hand. "I know you think of yourself as a weapon more than a person. You know that I entirely disagree. But even swords need to be cleaned, are cared for, and have a well-maintained sheath to stay in. Having a house will not make you soft or dull your edge; it will give you another reason to fight hard so you can live to return to it." He let go of Geralt's hand with a final pat onto the top; Geralt had bowed his head and his face was hidden behind his loose hair. "You thought the same about Ciri, remember? But you told me that even Vesemir agreed that you have kept your skills if not improved them." 

Jaskier stopped talking, sensing that his friend needed time to mentally digest all that he had said. Geralt was silent, so Jaskier stood up and combed his hair and removed his trousers, leaving his drawers on to sleep in. Geralt was still sitting on the edge of the bed hidden by his hair. It had been a long silence even by Geralt's standards, so Jaskier dared to kneel in front of his friend and crane his neck to get an impression of Geralt's expression. 

He didn't need to verbally prompt the witcher to look at him. Geralt raised his face and there was a shadow of guilt and shame. It was unexpected, and Jaskier was concerned enough to boldly lift a hand to push some of Geralt's curtain of hair behind his ear. "Tell me," he asked, the reflection of hurt in his soul at Geralt's pain needed a reason and a target. 

Finally Geralt husked out two words: "And you." 

"What?" Jaskier said, lost. 

"I thought the same about you," the witcher began to elaborate. "You were so different from anyone I had ever met. You insisted on following me even though it was dangerous and I always thought you would be killed the next day. I didn't want to get attached. I didn't think I could, though you never believed that." 

"I'm not that easy to kill. We've known each other... what, over fifteen years? Ciri is that old, so at least that long. My opinion is that we are both very attached to each other; I'm like a fungal growth or a tick," Jaskier said with a chuckle. "You've told me so, multiple times." 

Geralt didn't even smile the tiniest bit. Instead, he looked even more pained. "How have you put up with me for so long? I have always been cruel to you." 

Jaskier tapped his friend's knee. "I've long since learned your unspoken language. You are not as inscrutable as you like to think that you are." 

"But, still, I have not even admitted that we are friends." 

"Of course you have. Maybe not said it, but every time an innkeeper asks about how many rooms you _and your friend_ will need, you admit that we are friends as well as travel companions." 

There was a small frown and Geralt shifted his weight before he said, "I should admit to more." 

Jaskier seemed to have misheard him. He shrugged and stood up to give his knees a rest. "You don't need to admit we're friends more often if it makes you uncomfortable. You don't care what strangers think." 

Geralt caught his hand before the bard could turn away. "That's not what I meant." He stood up and moved even closer to Jaskier. Jaskier tried to mentally stamp down his hopes and anticipation. 

"You are more to me than a friend. I was just too stupid and cowardly to admit it to myself." Geralt's golden eyes practically glowed with resolve, mesmerizing Jaskier, whose mouth was hanging slack and going dry. Geralt put his free hand on Jaskier's cheek and could hear the bard's heart rate kick up. The witcher observed his friend's eyes half-close and a warm, unfamiliar scent emanate from his skin. 

"I love you, Jaskier. I'm sorry that it took me so long to realize." Geralt had no need to ask his friend if he returned the feeling because the bard's body told him the truth. He did, however, need to hear how Jaskier would respond before he would push for more intimate contact. 

Jaskier licked his lips. "Oh," he sighed, some sort of long-held tension escaping his body with that breath. "I love you too. Always."


End file.
